C is for Curling

I'm watching curling this afternoon, while I clean up in a random way, and wait for...
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(drum roll please).
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The Ant Killer (and his supervisor) to arrive.

Oh joy.

Yes. We got home from Monterey Bay last night to discover a wide line of ants marching across the kitchen floor. This time, they weren't coming FROM the kitchen, but heading TOWARDS the kitchen. And they were coming from a new part of the house: the family room wall behind the TV. And they weren't just little ants. They were Ants in Two Sizes! (And, from my chats with Jim [ yes, we're on a first name basis, after all his ant-related visits], I know that those two sizes of ants mean that the ant colony is SO BIG that the extra queens aren't needed in the ant-hill, so are being sent out as scouts. The bigger ants are Extra Queens!)

I'm so thrilled.

Anyways, so I'm cleaning up (don't want them walking in and saying "Well, if you weren't behind by six loads of laundry, you wouldn't have this problem" or "The ants are being drawn by the pile of newspapers beside the sofa"), and watching curling on TV.

And I have one question:

Why does the American curling team speak Canadian?

Is it, perhaps, the language of the sport? The commentators are speaking some mixture of Canadian and Scottish. All I know, is that I'm really having a good time watching them kibbitz on the ice.

"Whoa, eh! Go dat way, eh! Sweep, ya hosers!" It's bringing a tear to my eye.

And now, there are 2 minutes before Jim the Ant Killer arrives with his smoking gun of Ant Doom.